The Darkness Within
by LanceIsHot
Summary: Harry recieves Voldemort's wand a year after the battle at Hogwarts and some unforseen events occur. R&R please!
1. The Wand

It was exactly one year to the day that Voldemort was defeated. It had taken a while, but finally things were starting to go back to the way they were back when Harry was a first year at Hogwarts. Diagon Alley was safe to walk down again- Ollivander's wand shop was open for business, as was a second branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Kingsly had been named permanent Minister of Magic, almost unanimously by the council. Harry was starting to feel that the wizarding world was going to be fine.

Normally that would worry him, but after being scared for so long, the thought of not being scared anymore was too refreshing to give up. For now, he was happy, living at Grimmauld Place, with Ron and Hermione for company. Since most death eaters were dead or in jail, there was no need for him to worry about the secret of the house being broken. Besides, what could really get to him anymore?

After the battle, Harry had a lot to take care of. Fixing everything that had come undone while the death eater's had taken over had taken a lot of time. He had found time to visit Hogwarts, which had started a new year, with Professor McGonagall as the current headmistress. He had gone to the funerals of Fred, Tonks, and Lupin, and spoken at each. The one thing he hadn't done was go the grave of Ignostio and bury the Elder wand. But it was in a safe place for the time being. He didn't need to worry.

Hermione had gone to live with her parent's for a few months right after the battle. Their original memories restored, they were horrified to find out what she had done. They wouldn't let her leave their sight for ages, terrified that they might lose her. But now that they had calmed down a bit, she had been allowed to stay with Harry and Ron as a roommate, which was not approved of by any parent at first.

"What are you all complaining about, we went all over the country in a tent last year and none of you stopped us," Ron complained to his mum as he was packing.

"Last year things were different, and you know it. We had no idea where you three were going, you just left right in the middle of the wedding," she snapped back.

"It was not in the middle, the wedding part was over, and everybody was panicking. Harry, back me up here," Ron had pleaded.

In the end, the three had won, under the condition that George, who was not doing well without his twin, would stay with them as well.

"A bloody chaperone! Eighteen and we get a chaperone!" Ron had complained bitterly. He had gotten over it fast though, George was hardly ever around. The store needed constant attention, and George was all too happy for the distraction.

"Besides," George had said, "if there was ever a couple that needed to get a clue- it would be you two. A chaperone is about the last thing you need."

So Harry, Ron, and Hermione were, for the most part, on their own again. Kreacher was all to willing to come back to the Black house, and he made things even better than the last time they were there. Hermione had a job working with muggles, and Harry was training to be an Auror. Ron at first was thought about becoming an Auror as well, but backed down when he realized just how much additional schooling went into the job. He was, as he put it, "keeping his options open until the time that the right job opened up." Harry had a feeling that the 'right job' wouldn't be opening until his mother came down on him and dragged him to an interview.

Harry was dragged from his room by the doorbell ringing. He made a quick jog to the portrait of Sirius's mum, and shut the curtain. Her portrait was one of the few things that he disliked about living in the house. He walked down the rest of the hallway to the door, wondering why no one else in the house could be bothered to open the door, when Ron crashed into him from behind.

"Oy, what are you doing Ron?" he asked, now on the floor.

"I dunno, I heard the door, and I came, what are you doing on the floor?"

By this time, the portrait had started screeching again, and there was another knock on the door. The boys split up, Ron shutting the curtain, Harry running to the door.

He threw the door open, to see a wand aimed straight at his face. He pulled out his wand immediately, but before he could say anything, the visitor lowered the wand.

"Relax, Harry Potter. I will not harm you." It took Harry a couple of seconds to get over the shock of the moment- he hadn't had an adrenaline rush like this in ages.

"Kingsly," Ron said, putting his own wand away. "You gave us a scare."

"My apologies, gentlemen, but I was just showing you that just because Voldemort has gone, does not mean you should let your guard down. You never once asked to see who I was," he scolded Harry.

Harry blushed slightly, but honestly, how was he to know he was about to get attacked in his own home by the minister of magic?

"So did you have another reason for your call, or are you just going door to door attacking people?" he asked, still not quite over the moment.

"I did not attack you. I merely showed you that you need to show more caution," Kingsly said in his smooth voice. "But I do have a more important reason for my visit. Maybe we should sit down for this." Harry led them into the living room, now free of all dust, doxies, and couches that bit when sat on. Kingsly pulled out a long, thin box from a bag Harry had not noticed before.

"As you both know, we have searched every place we believed Voldemort to have been in the last three years. When we were searching Malfoy Manor, we found this." At this point, he opened up the box, revealing a wand. Ron looked thoroughly unimpressed, obviously expecting much more, but Harry recognized the wand.

"That's _his_ wand, isn't it?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, Ollivander recognized it the second we brought it to him. At first he wanted to examine it, but he said that the wand has done too much damage for him to want to touch."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense," Ron said. "The wand didn't do the damage, You-Know-Who did. Why would he not want to touch the wand?"

"Wands have souls, really," Harry said, thinking back to his discussion with Dumbledore about the wands. "It was able to recognize me, which was why Voldemort wasn't able to kill me with it, we shared a core. The wand knew that."

"And that is exactly why Ollivander suggested you should have the wand," Kingsly said.

"Me?" Harry said, surprised.

"Normally, something like this would be kept at the ministry, but it is up to you, Harry. You are the one who defeated him. The wand shares a core with your own. You don't have to keep it if you don't want to, but we are giving you the choice."

Harry looked down at the wand in the box Kingsly was holding. This was the wand that killed his parents, that had killed Cedric Diggory, that he had seen do so many terrible things. Why would he want something like that anywhere near him? Yet something told him he would regret it if he didn't have it.

"I'll take it," he said, holding out his hand.

"Good, I'm glad. Then I will take my leave," Kingsly said, standing up. "One last thing; be careful with it. No one has touched the wand itself since Voldemort last used it. Even Ollivander didn't want to get to near it. Don't leave it lying around where anyone," his eyes seemed to drift towards Ron, "can get to it."

"I'll be careful with it," Harry promised.

"You should, you know as well as I do, that wand is one of the most powerful in the world," and with that, Kingsly was gone.

"Please, what do you think he would say if he knew we had the Elder wand hidden under your bed?" Ron scoffed.

* * *

Later on that night, Harry was lying on his bed, looking at the case in front of him. Voldemort hadn't used his wand in the months before his death- right when he realized that the wand could not harm Harry. After that, Voldemort's wand had disappeared, at least as far as Harry knew. Judging by the fear most people had of the wand, it was very likely that it hadn't been touched in the time that it was gone from sight. He could be the first one to touch the actual wand since Voldemort in Malfoy Manor.

The thought sent chills down his spine.

He stood, and picked up the wand, and sudden warmth spread through his fingers. He was reminded of the first time he picked his own wand, and he wondered if the wand was confused of the owner, but then the warmth spread- all over. And it turned hotter. He couldn't take it, he dropped the wand to the floor, but the heat stayed in him. It became too much for him, and he screamed, and dropped to the floor.

**A/N Just in case this looks familiar to anyone, I'm basing it off my favorite episode of "Teen Titans." This is my disclaimer saying I don't own either, and am only writing this in tribute to an awesome episode. So, R&R please!**


	2. The Voice

**A/N Ok, so, I'm updating really fast, but, my last chapter was ridiculously short, and I have a test soon, so I'm going to be studying. Might as well get the chapters up when I can. R&R please!**

Chapter 2

"Harry, Harry!"

Harry started to open his eyes, but decided the pain in his head was too much to bother. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to figure out where he was. He was on a bed. It was soft, and he was definitely in his room.

"Harry, are you awake?" he could hear Hermione ask. He started to respond, but figured that if opening his eyes hurt, talking wouldn't be much better. He grunted a bit, to show that he wasn't dead. He heard Ron cheer at this.

"See, Hermione," he heard Ron say, "I told you he wasn't dead."

"I knew he wasn't dead Ron," Hermione snapped back. "I was just worried when he didn't wake up."

That got Harry's attention. "What happened? How long have I been out?" he asked, forcing his eyes to open into slits.

"It's been about…four hours mate," Ron said, checking his watch.

"Four hours?" Harry looked around the room, noticing only Ron and Hermione. "I've been unconscious for four hours and your mum isn't here? Is there something bad happening that I should know about?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances before Hermione said, "We didn't actually tell anyone about this Harry." In response to his disbelieving, yet somewhat amused stare, she continued, "we were worried. What if this got out? What if it's related to Voldemort coming back? It's only been a year; it wouldn't take much to send people into a panic. If someone heard that you- who has a connection into Voldemort's mind, suddenly collapsed for no reason; we don't know what could happen. Besides, what could anyone have done that we didn't do?" she finished, rather haughtily.

Harry was surprised that she had thought this far ahead. In most cases, both Hermione and Ron's first reactions to any situation would involve telling an adult. But, now that they had passed seventeen, he supposed that they didn't need to contact anyone else. They were the adults now. Besides, who could he call now, besides Ron's parents? Nearly everyone he had ever trusted was dead.

Hermione had started talking again, asking him what had happened. "How much do you remember?" she asked him.

"The last thing I remember is Kingsly leaving," Harry said, thinking back, trying to remember what happened after Kingsly left.

"That was about two hours before we heard you scream, what happened in between?" Ron asked.

"I screamed?" Harry asked, straining to remember something, anything linking back to what had happened. "I don't remember that."

"Did you use the wand?" Hermione asked. Harry didn't bother asking how she knew about Voldemort's wand; Ron would have told her the second she got home.

"I don't think so, I know I brought it up to my room, but that's all I did," Harry said. "I left it by the lamp." Sure enough, the wand was there, still in its case, undisturbed.

"Then what could have made you pass out like this?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea," Harry said, fatigue already surrounding him. "Maybe we'll figure it out later."

Hermione nodded, and started to leave, but instead asked, "Harry, why did you take Voldemort's wand?"

Harry considered her question- why did he feel so compelled to have the wand that had done so much damage to his life?

"I just wanted to see if it felt different," he answered, and he realized it was true as he said it. "We have the same core, our wands are equally powerful when we face each other, but his did so much evil. I just wanted to see if it felt different than mine."

Ron shrugged and accepted his answer, but Hermione didn't seem to go along with it as easily.

"You would let the wand that killed your parents into our house, just to see if it_ felt _different?" she asked. "That's ridiculous."

"Last I checked, this was _my _house, and I'll bring whatever I want in here," Harry said, anger rising in him that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep. I've already got a headache, and arguing with the two of you only makes it worse."

As he laid down, he could clearly see Hermione's shocked face, and hear Ron mutter, "I didn't even say anything, why is he mad at me?"

Later that night, Harry's headache had only worsened. He hadn't slept at all, and it was just about midnight. Harry had given up all hope of getting any sleep during the night. He turned over on his side, hoping that the new position would help, when he heard it.

"_All that anger is still inside of you. How silly of you to think that it would go away." _

Harry shot up in bed. That voice! It was Voldemort! But how? He had seen Voldemort's dead body lying on the floor, and the part that was living inside of him had been killed off.

"_Foolish child, I will always be a part of you," _the voice spoke again. Where was it coming from? It didn't seem to be coming from one particular spot; it was like it was hitting him from all over- or worse- from within. Where else could it be coming from?

He froze on his bed, afraid that if he moved, he would hear the voice again. What if Voldemort was in the room? He frantically whipped his head around, but he didn't see anything out of place. It was dark in his room, but he was sure that he would be able to see something like Voldemort hiding behind his bed. Was he dreaming and the voice in his head just a figment of his imagination? Or maybe the others could hear it too; maybe it wasn't all in his head. He couldn't be sure where the voice was coming from. He sprung from bed, and ran over to Ron's room.

"_You can run, but you can't hide." _

"Ron, RON! Wake up" Harry pleaded his friend. Ron mumbled something in his sleep, but made no other response. Harry gave one last yell and then finally tipped the mattress a bit.

"Wait, what, what's going on?" Ron sleepily called from the floor.

"Ron, have you heard the voice?" Harry asked.

"What, the one yelling in my ear to wake up? Yeah, but I ignored it. Bloody hell, Harry, have you seen what time it is?"

"That doesn't matter Ron," Harry said, a little agitated now. "Have you heard Voldemort's voice?"

That made Ron snap his head up. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"I've been hearing a voice, and it sounds like Voldemort's," Harry explained, but he knew that it was useless. Ron would have been terrified if he had heard the voice; which left Hermione to prove his story.

He ran down the hall to her room, stopping at her door and knocking instead of barging in like he did to Ron. Terrified as he was, nothing was as bad as an angry Hermione.

"Hermione," he called to the other side of the door, "Hermione, can I come in?"

"Harry, do you know what time it is?" Hermione asked, but opened the door anyway.

"Hermione, have you heard a voice, one that sounds like Voldemort's?" Hermione's eyes instantly narrowed.

"What have you heard?" she asked.

"You mean you didn't hear anything?" Harry asked, his heart sinking.

"Besides Ron falling out of bed again? The house has been completely quiet," she said.

"Then what have I been hearing?" Harry asked her.

By this time, both Ron and George had come into the room.

"Why are you lot up so late," George asked, obviously not pleased to be up at this hour.

"It's nothing," Harry said, hurriedly.

"Does this have something to do with you being out all day?" George asked. Harry sent Ron and Hermione a glare, to which Ron held his hands up in a defensive position. "Well, come on, it was obvious," George said, "I hear a scream from your room, and then nothing for the rest of the day. I figured at first you were just trying to do a spell that went wrong, but then you didn't come down, and Ron and Hermione were all scared. I've known something was up for hours. What's going on?"

Harry debated for a second on how much he should tell George, but in the end, decided to tell him everything. It might be wise to have someone older, even if it was just George, who could tell him what was going on. They all headed down to the dining room, Kreacher got cups of Butterbeer out for everyone, and Harry told him what had been happening.

At the end, George looked more serious than Harry had seen him look in ages. "So let me get this straight," he said, "you get Voldemort's wand, then black out for hours, with no clue what happened in between?"

"I don't know how much time is missing," Harry explained. "Ron just said about two hours, but I think I remember some of the time in there."

"No matter how much time it is, it isn't good," George said. "And you haven't told anyone, not even mum and dad?" He said, looking at Ron.

"We didn't tell anyone," Hermione said.

"That's good," said George. "We don't want to scare anyone unless we have to. If it got out that you were hearing Voldemort's voice again, well, it wouldn't be good."

"We figured that much out, thanks," Ron said, a little miffed.

"We'll keep this between the four of us," George continued. "Chances are, it was a nightmare, or some random spell hit you. It'll probably go away in a couple of hours."

Harry nodded, but he didn't believe it. The others didn't hear the voice- they couldn't understand the chilling cold that went down his spine every time he heard it. It was only slightly better than his second year, when he could hear the basilisk in the walls of the castle. At least this time, he knew exactly who was talking to him. It didn't matter that he had killed Voldemort; somehow, he was still in his mind- still connected to him somehow.

"Well, there's no point in us losing any more sleep over this," Ron said, yawning.

"What do you care, got a busy day of loafing around the house ahead of you?" George asked, standing up. "Why don't you just come and work for me Ron? It would be a lot easier than telling mum that you're still trying to find a job with the ministry."

"Work for you? No way! I'd much rather loaf around the house, thank you very much." Ron said.

Harry by this time was already walking out the door, having tuned out his friends for the time being. His head was killing him, and hearing George complain about Ron's lack of job again was not helping.

They said goodnight to each other, and went back up to bed. For the first time in ages, Harry did not want to be alone. Yes, his head was killing him, and he wanted some quiet, but he was actually scared of hearing the voice again.

He walked into his room, making sure the light was on before sitting on the bed. He brought his hand up to his forehead, trying to massage his head. But as his hand crossed his eyes, he noticed a red line on his palm. He traced the line with his finger. He didn't remember having a scar there earlier, how long had he had it? What had he touched that had burned him? It was definitely a scar from something that burned, not a cut. But why did he not remember getting it? Something like that would've hurt.

He lay down, covering his face with the pillow. He had left the light on, figuring that if he was alone in the dark, Voldemort's voice would talk to him again. He hoped George was right, and that he would only hear the voice for a few hours. Maybe it was only a nightmare. By morning, all this would be gone, and Ron would probably be laughing at him for thinking he heard voices - again. With that thought he drifted off to sleep- comforted by the fact that the light would stay on while he slept.

Harry woke up; it felt like a couple hours later in complete darkness. He lay still for a few seconds, trying to figure out what had woken him up. Then the memory of what had been happening all night came back, and he looked to his light, wondering what had made it turn off.

He reached for his wand that sat on the night stand next to his bed, but it wasn't there. He shot up immediately. Where could it have gone?

"_Are you looking for something, Harry?" _the voice asked him. Harry whipped his head around, trying to see where it was coming from, but it was dark in the room. Suddenly, there was a light in the corner of his room, and though Harry could see- he wished he couldn't.

It was Voldemort, in the body that he had had right before his death, holding Harry's wand. Harry's first thought was to scream, but knew it would do no good.

"What do you want? How are you even here?" he asked, slowly getting out of bed.

"_Harry, I think you've known what I've wanted for years. And as for how I'm here, well, Dumbledore answer's most of your questions about that doesn't he?"_

"He's dead, and you know it," Harry snapped, looking for a way out, or for something to protect himself with. "Why are you here?" He shouted the last question, not caring anymore about waking the others. He hoped that by stalling whatever this thing was, if it was the real Voldemort or not, he could figure out what was going on, before anything bad happened.

"_Such impatience," _Voldemort mocked him. _"You don't even greet an old friend into your home." _Suddenly, Harry could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway. Voldemort looked quickly to the door, and vanished.

"Harry, Harry, are you alright?" Ron asked as he burst through the door.

"He was here, Ron," Harry panted, the adrenaline pumping through him.

"Who was here, Harry," asked George, coming into the room.

"Voldemort, couldn't you hear him? He was talking to me! He was right here!" He pointed to the spot where Voldemort had stood. "He had my wand, and he left right when you lot came in."

"Harry, your wand's right there," Hermione pointed out. She had come in and inspected the room, and had found his wand right on the nightstand- right where it was supposed to be.

"He was here, couldn't you hear him?" Harry pleaded.

"We heard you yelling, and talking to yourself," Ron explained.

"But, really, with your past history, we figured it was best to check it out," finished George.

"You really didn't hear anything?" asked Harry.

"Nothing but you, mate," Ron said.

Hermione gave him a pitying gaze, Ron was staring at him with a slightly concerned expression, but George actually looked worried.

"This isn't good, Harry," he said. "This isn't good at all."

An hour later, George, Hermione, and Ron were sitting at the dining room table again. They had thought Harry was asleep again, but he had long since given up any hope of getting anymore rest tonight. And since the others were so curious to meet without him, he wanted to know what was going on.

"Maybe You-know-who really never died," Ron was saying. "Maybe it was a huge spell on all of us at Hogwarts, like when Harry saw Sirius being tortured at the Department of Mysteries."

"That's a pretty big spell, Ron," George said. "Besides, think about it. If Voldemort wasn't really dead, would he have let everything go back to normal? The streets are safe to walk down again, muggles have stopped dying, the ministry is back in our control; Voldemort would have stopped that if he still was alive."

"Well, last time, he waited almost eleven years before he did anything, didn't he?" Ron shot back. "Who knows why he's waiting this time. Maybe using a big spell like that drained him of all his powers."

"We had a body, Ron," George said.

"That was part of the illusion too," Ron reminded him.

"As logical as that sounds," Hermione cut in, rolling her eyes, "maybe it could just be the wand. Maybe having it in the house is bothering Harry, and he's having nightmares."

"I think the answer is a lot simpler than that," George said. "Harry's been through a lot over the years; between his parents dying, his family treating him like dirt, having to fight the ministry and Voldemort and all that. It's a lot for one person to take- especially a kid, and I don't care what you say Ron, you lot are still kids. Maybe all of the fighting, and everything he's had to go through, is finally getting to him. I don't think any of this is real."

Harry backed away from the door, refusing to hear anymore. How could George say that? He had always liked George, and thought that he had been on Harry's side, no matter what he had said. He and Fred were the ones who gave him the Marauder's map; they were right behind him when he saw Mr. Weasely being attacked, and they believed every word he said about Voldemort being back after the Triwizard Tournament.

Or so he thought.

He stumbled through the rest of the house, thinking about how many of the people he had trusted actually believed in him when the stakes were down. Ron turned on him the second his name was pulled out of the goblet of fire, and both he and Hermione were scared when they found out he spoke Parseltongue. They started to lose their faith in him when they realized he didn't know exactly where the Horcruxes were, but how did he know that that was the point that they finally lost their trust.


End file.
